


Heel! Bark! Kill!

by panhomarek



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra trained Winter Soldier like a dog, M/M, Protective Avengers, Rape Aftermath, Sam and Steve do they best to help, Sub!Bucky, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1471684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panhomarek/pseuds/panhomarek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“He’s only a dog” other voice said, husky and jerky, uneven breaths made his words almost  unrecognizable. “It is all he ever was and it’s all he'll ever be, Captain. This is your truth! He needs a Master. Without it he’s only a rabid hound, wild and uncontrollable. Mad.” </i> </p><p>Or HYDRA trained their precious Winter Soldier to be obedient dog who needs a Master. Steve and Sam found out and are doing their best to pull Bucky together. </p><p><b> This is not your regular fluffy fanfic please be aware of warrings and tags! </b> Also WIP. Don't know where it would go. I blame this site and Cap2 movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Shoot - missed.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what to say - it just happened. I think I might publish next chapter next week when I write it. 
> 
> Beta would be welcomed, you know? English isn't my first language. Please point out my mistakes I will change them! 
> 
> Also, kudos and comments are the biggest motivation so I'm counting on you!

Chapter 1: First Shoot - missed.

 

“Steve!” Falcon shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation, but it was already too late. Captain America was gone, running into a bunker full of HYRDA’s soldiers. Falcon wanted to shout again, but sudden shots in his direction successfully redirected his attention.

It was insane, this whole plan Steve came up with, but who he was to decline Captain America’s request for help? Sam cursed when a bullet passed millimeters from his left ear, and then again when a second hostile agent began to aim for his wings.

For a brief moment, he searched for Captains America’s blue uniform, for his shining shield, or even enemies falling, but he could no longer see him. Steve was gone, his mind set on a mission and it made him reckless – although Sam had thought Steve was reckless since the Helicarrier ordeal. What soldier runs into building full of enemies without his back covered? Without any good back-up plan? Sam was the only one besides Natasha--who wasn’t here right now--that knew about this stupidity, who agreed for this stupidity to happen, and he regretted it the second they saw the bunker.

It was hard for him to fly. Russian air was cold, almost too cold to breathe even through the warm woolen scarf he had around his neck and mouth. The wind was growing stronger and stronger, bringing more snow with each blowing gust. He could barely see through the white flurries and his ski goggles weren’t providing much help either.

Falcon flew higher, avoiding another volley of shots and smoothly turned left, dodging three more bullets. Yet a fourth bullet whizzing by managed to scratch his wing and unbalanced him enough to change his flying course and he nearly crashed into a tree. Russians were good. Natasha wasn’t lying or exaggerating anything, but they weren’t better than him that much was certain. He’d dealt with worse in his life – trying to buy a ticket for the Super Bowl for a good price was one task that seemed near impossible, yet he managed that – and he wasn’t planning to die in some shithole in the middle of nowhere in  _Russia._ Not a chance. He wasn’t going to let Captain America die either, it would be even worse than dying himself. For one thing what would he tell Fury?

Sam instead focused on his job, reached for his guns and began to return fire. It was hard to aim properly with the snowstorm approaching, but he did what he could while ducking and dodging. His wings rattled on the wind and for the first time in his career as Falcon, he doubted his toys would survive such extreme conditions.

Suddenly there was a powerful explosion that shook the ground and when he looked in its direction he saw dark smoke rising from the bunker. He cursed again, louder than before and his throat protested, but this wasn’t the time for being polite. Taking his chance, he shot two agents when he saw they were distracted from the explosion. When their co-workers fell dead on the snow, the remaining four enemy agents focused on Falcon again.

It didn’t seem like he was making any progress, desperately trying not to get killed while trying to kill the enemy Russians first. Only when one of the agents ran out of ammunition did Falcon take another gamble. Turning sharply, he flew down with a  frightful speed, cold wind freezing the exposed parts of his face, and with full force kicked out two of the men upon collision.

“Falcon: 4 – Bad Guys: 0,” he muttered to himself and smiled behind his scarf. Now that he was back on the ground, things became a bit harder. He wasn’t able to see his enemies as well as when he was in the air. On the other hand, that meant his enemies couldn’t see him either and it gave him the advantage he needed right now.

With his head lowered and trying to make as little noise as possible, he flitted from one snowdrift to another. His wings still clattered, but the sound was muffled by the merciless wind and for once he was grateful. It took him another ten minutes, occasionally interrupted by desperate shots, to approach his enemies from the back and kick them out as well.

Not surprised that the men weren’t that difficult of targets – his true enemy, the one he couldn’t fight, was the weather. Falcon, though wearing the warmest clothes he ever saw, was freezing to the point he couldn’t feel his face and his fingers. It wasn’t good and he knew that, and he hoped against hope that Cap was all right.

Without thinking much more on his own misery, Falcon flew over to the entrance of the bunker. He furled his metal wings – now covered with ice – and walked in.

The corridor was narrow and dark and here and there he saw broken fluorescent lamps lighting grey walls painted with blood and corpses on the ground, only for the scant light to go out in mere seconds. Honestly, if Sam didn’t know better, if he didn’t know that all of this was Captain America’s work and that they were on a mission, he would think he was stuck in some B-rated horror movie with too much violence for it to be real and convincing. The only thing missing here would be some monster– he stopped his thoughts here, because yes, yes they have a monster, but of different nature. They were going through this Hell for that particular monster also known as Winter Soldier aka ‘ _he was my friend, Sam! I had to take him back!’_

Sam’s footsteps echoed in the corridor and it made him even more aware of the dead men on the floor. He moved carefully, not wanting to step on someone’s hand or leg or even worse, head. They might be dead or on the edge of dying, but he had some respect, even for his enemies. The other part of him, the one that was raised on war, didn’t want to stumble and make unnecessary noise.  He shushed that part, not only because he hated it, but because he thought he could hear something.

He froze in place not daring to breathe, simply straining to listen.

Muffled sounds came to him, not far away from him as far as he could tell. He checked his guns – he didn’t have much ammunition but it should be enough considering he had also his combat skills. And judging by the Russians he saw so far – bloody and unmoving – he was sure Captain America took care of the worst of HYDRA.

It didn’t calm him of course it just made him more worried. With so many enemies it was impossible for Steve to not get injured during his fights. He saw bullet holes in the walls which meant there was a possibility that even one bullet reached its target. With that thought spurring him, he hurried down the corridor.

Voices soon grew closer and closer and after few more steps he was able to hear what they were talking about. It was a surprise to hear Steve--so angry it seemed unreal, almost alien in a way. He had never heard such hatred in Captain America, not that he’d known him for very long, but even so, it wasn’t something one imagined when envisioning the patriotic super soldier, whose natural look seemed to always be wearing a smile.

“What did you do to him?!” Steve was yelling. Falcon stopped at the corner. He didn’t know why, maybe because of his instincts, but he didn’t want to be seen. Not yet. He wanted to hear first what this all was about.

“He’s only a dog,” another voice said, husky and jerky, uneven breaths made his words almost unrecognizable. “It is all he ever was and it’s all he'll ever be, Captain. This is your truth! He needs a Master. Without it he’s only a rabid hound, wild and uncontrollable. Mad.”

The man chuckled fanatically and coughed a few times and Sam had to roll his eyes because of how old-fashioned it was. He watched enough cartoon villains to know that. But Steve wasn’t amused, the words made him only angrier, furious.

“It is not the truth!” He protested, but Sam could hear his hope cracking and it frightened him more than he wanted to admit. What would break Captain America’s faith like that? What was so horrible to bring someone as optimistic and hopeful to a state like this?

“Look at him–,” another cough, then the voice again, “look at this beaten dog! He knows where his place is! At the feet of HYDRA!”

Falcon heard the sound of breaking bones and flinched, imagining what happened to the evil guy. Only after a few seconds he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and began to move again. He had to make sure Steve was all right or at least in good enough shape to take their asses as far away from here as it was possible.

They still had to call Natasha for an extraction.

When he walked up to the room, hands lifted, so Cap wouldn’t take him for an enemy by accident – it happens when you’re in war – he wasn’t prepared to see what he saw. He choked on his own breath and couldn’t avert his eyes from the sight.

“Is this–”  he began, but couldn’t finish, words stuck in his suddenly dry throat.

In front of him, crouched in the corner of the room, was a naked, beaten Winter Soldier. He had never seen a man tortured like that. Violet and yellow from the bruises that seemed to be everywhere, eyes blindfolded and arms tied up behind his back. And was that– was that a collar around his neck?

When he looked closer he choked again, because it wasn’t just a collar some sick old bastard would put on someone’s else neck, it was a  _fucking shock collar_  and all Sam wanted to do was to kill everyone responsible for this. Yet, his eyes still analyzed their situation. Amongst bruises, there were scratches, abrasions and cuts, some deep to dangerous level.

Whoever did this to the Winter Soldier didn’t want to kill him but to torment him, so much was painfully clear to Sam and judging by Steve’s face: him too.

“Steve?” he asked, unsure of what he wanted to say. They had to take Barnes from here, to somewhere safe and find him a discreet doctor and psychiatrist as well. It was definitely easier said than done, because with every word they said, the Winter Soldier flinched or began to tremble like frightened rabbit.

Sam looked at his companion, question in his eyes  _would he let us approach?_

Steve shook his head; he had no clue as well. Shit. Shit. What should they do? He never had a course about what to do with torture victims. As far as he knew they should take him away from this place and then let specialist take care of him. But there were some obvious obstacles. This was the Winter Soldier, the same one that almost helped aid the death of 20 million or more innocent people. The very same that almost killed Fury and the very same that almost killed Captain America. Will he try to kill them all if they decide to trust them? Will he stick to his last mission, like a loyal soldier? The second problem of a different nature was named Steve Rogers and somehow Falcon doubted that the Captain would let go of his old friend no matter what happened.

The silence was prolonging and it was clear that James was freaking out more and more with each passing second. Sam took a deep breath and looked at the Captain. Rogers seemed to stand frozen, only his fingers twitching. His eyes were too focused on the naked body in the corner.

“Okay,” Sam breathed out, a bare whisper but it startled Barnes all the same. “Okay, I’ll take care of him Cap. I’ll do that. He’ll be safe I promise, but you need to go now. Call Natasha. Tell her to pick us up as fast as she can. Ask if she knows any good doctors that could help us.”

At first he thought his words didn’t make it to the Captain’s stunned mind, but then he moved rapidly and nodded his understanding. He shot one last look to his abused friend and left the room as quickly as possible.

Sam sighed deeply,  _how had his life become such a mess?_  

 

Slowly, not wanting to frighten Bucky even more, he walked up to him then bent over – and that was his first mistake. A shadowing figure over him seemed to trigger some automatic reaction in the Winter Soldier. He _whined_ to Sam’s horror and lowered himself, his head touching the ground, his collared neck exposed.

What did that sick bastard say earlier? That the Winter Soldier was trained like a dog.

Sam swallowed and then gathered all his strength. It needed to be done one way or another and right now he didn’t want to stress Barnes any more than it was necessary. So he kneeled in front of him and as gently as he could – with a trembling hand – touched the other’s hair. Barnes froze in his spot; stopped breathing as well and Sam cursed himself.

“Easy,” he said, slowly rubbing tangled hair, “easy boy. I’m going to take care of you now.”

In some sick way, his words did wonders to the Winter Soldier. Maybe it was an automatic response, but he relaxed against Sam’s hand. Aside from that he remained still and silent, compliant.

“Good,” he muttered and he already hated himself for doing this. “Can you stand up? Nod or shake your head, it’s all right. There’s no wrong answer here.”

For a moment Barnes was tense again, but then he nodded weakly. Sam took it as he wasn’t sure if he could but he was willing to try. It was good enough in his books, so Sam stood up and only then realized he hadn’t pulled off the blindfold yet.

The Winter Soldier rose to his feet as well. It was a shaky process however, probably because his legs were all pins and needles from being in the same position for so long. Sam put his hand in the other’s hair again and this time nearly smiled with relief when Barnes didn’t flinch and instead leaned to meet Sam’s hand with his cheek. He rubbed tender skin for a short while before he removed the blindfold.

“It’s okay,” he said when he saw Barnes desperately clenching his eyes shut. “It’s okay, you can see everything now. You can see me.”

“ _Woof-woof_ ,” the Soldier barked, his voice strained, his posture all tense again.

Sam was too shocked to breathe, trying to understand what was before his eyes. Did that really happen? Did they train a human being to bark like a dog? To act like a dog?  _Frightened dog,_  his mind added and Sam suddenly wanted all HYDRA agents alive so he could kill them personally. And he wouldn’t be so nice as to only shoot them in the heads.

Barnes began to suddenly breathe faster, gasping for air, and Sam thought it was his fault – he was silent for too long, he screwed this up. With an instant, he pressed his hand against Soldier’s cheek and then moved it to his hair, began to rub them again in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his own voice trembling. “Shhh, you’re good, you’re good. You can open your eyes, you’re allowed to. No one will hurt you for this, I promise you. I am the one taking care of you here.”

It was an uncertain, timid move, but finally _– thank God for that! –_ Bucky opened his eyes. The second he saw Sam he froze, then within a moment he was pressed hard against the wall, shaking and looking at him with wide, fearful eyes.

 _Oh fuck,_ Sam thought,  _he recognized me from the Helicarrier._

Sam moved forward and that was it, he knew he lost the man. Barnes began to panic, his breaths were coming in short, faster and faster and Sam wanted to panic too, but he had to pull himself together for the sake of Bucky and Steve.

“Quiet!” He said, without really thinking about it. His voice was firm as he gave a command. “Quiet. Behave yourself. Sit and stay.”

It worked. It  _fucking worked_ and Sam didn’t know if he should be relieved or frightened but either way, his stomach wanted to return its dinner. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world for doing it, but it worked. Barnes managed to calm himself enough to catch a good breath and sit down or more likely kneel at his feet.

Sam took a deep breath too then petted the Soldier’s head, praising him.

“Good. I’ll be back in a minute. Stay where you are. Be good for me,” he said as firmly as he could, his voice almost breaking at the end. Then, faster than he thought was possible, he ran out of the room.

Captain America was sitting outside of the bunker, his knees bent, head between them. His hands were shaking. Sam wanted to do exactly the same and wait for Natasha, let her handle Barnes, but it wouldn’t be fair.

“Cap--,” he began and stopped abruptly. “Steve. Steve we need to talk,” he said, it was so hard to speak right now. He could feel the gulp in his throat and it physically hurt him.

“How is he, Sam?” Steve asked, his voice shaking as well.

“He reacts to dog commands,” he said and took another deep breath. He didn’t know if he was frightened or furious, if he was disgusted or shaken to the core. Maybe he was all of it, but Barnes needed someone collected enough to lead him out of here, to take care of him.

Steve remained still for another minute, no one said anything and then the Captain was on his feet. With the blink of an eye he was standing next to the thick bunker wall and he began punching it. Once, twice, thrice. His fist was bleeding, some fingers probably broken, but he didn’t stop for another six hits.

Sam waited, overwhelmed by all of this. When Steve calmed himself enough to look at him, Falcon walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Pull yourself together for God’s sake,” he said, clenching his hand so tight it would have been painful for normal people. “He needs you. He needs us both and Natasha. You came here to take him back home and now you can’t even bring yourself to look at him.”

Steve looked him in the eyes then and Sam saw there were tears of frustration, desperation and fear. Sam managed to smile – it was more a grimace really, the corners of his mouth were twitching – but it helped a little. Steve touched his hand and squeezed.

“I won’t leave you, buddy,” Sam said and turned his head towards the bunker. “We shouldn’t let him be alone more than necessary, Cap. He’ll be afraid. And–,”  he paused suddenly unsure of what he wanted to say. Mostly of how badly Steve would react but then Steve surprised him.

“And you think it would be better to treat him like a dog for now,” he said quietly. Sam looked at him and for the first time didn’t see a hero or super-soldier but a man tired of living, of carrying his own baggage of shitty experiences, problems and traumas.

“Yeah. For now, Cap. For now.”

“I hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29/04/14  
> Chapter was beta'd by amazing winterxghost!


	2. Second shot - even worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all - for the awesome comments! I didn't expect so many people would like this story! You are my motivation, thank you so much! I want to hug you all! 
> 
> And yes - poor Bucky! But I'm not going to go easy on him, not a chance. (Sorry. Really, I'm a bad person.)

### Chapter 2: Second shot - even worse.

The sound of footsteps grew quieter and quieter until after a minute died in the narrow corridor.

It took him another minute, to pull himself together enough to be able to think again. He was--as far as he knew--in deep shit. He let his keepers, his handlers die, he let them be killed – he failed as their guard dog. He was  _bad._ So bad.

 

He took a shaky breath, trying desperately to not give himself another panic attack. He didn’t need one at the moment, he should be focused on his job – the one he failed to do so many times lately. And to think this was such a good day. Two hours ago his handler had praised him, told him how good he was for taking his punishment without even a sound. For letting them all fuck him, cut him and beat him – he’d saved his target, abandoned his mission, he was  _bad_ and had to pay for it.

How badly they will punish him when he returns to his Master?

A cold shiver ran down his spine and he trembled uncontrollably. His Master won’t punish him, not personally. A disobedient dog like him didn’t deserve his attention, his valuable time, but his Master has his men and they will make him break, he had a feeling about that.

 _Stay calm,_ he thought, but when he opened his eyes again all he could see was his handler, lying dead on the floor with his own face crushed into his skull. Blood was everywhere, he could see it and smell it and he could already feel the rush of adrenaline in his veins. It was a battle ground. They killed everyone – or at least he thought so, judging by sudden lack of shots and screams – but why had they spared his life?

Why had one of them called himself his master? Did they kill his Master too?

His heart skipped a beat at the thought, a wave of  _no no no  no nonononono_  rushed through his mind. No one was skilled enough, strong enough to kill his Master, he had to believe that and in the meantime, he should do all he could to get out of there, to find if any of his handlers were still alive. Then he’d find his way back home like every loyal dog did. Maybe if he came back on his own, searching for forgiveness, his Master would call him good again when his punishment was finished.

When he was sure his enemies weren’t anywhere near him he rose to his feet again. Standing was a hard task after hours of kneeling in the same position. His muscles were tense and he could almost feel cramps waiting for his lack of control over his body. He bit his lower lip – he shouldn’t have but he’d already disobeyed so many times it didn’t matter – and looked again, trying to avoid the dead body.

His eyes were sensitive and the light of fluorescent lamps brought tears prickling. He didn’t let them fall down his cheeks though, he wasn’t going to show anyone his weakness. Only his Master ever saw him crying and he always said to him very clearly that only bad dogs were so weak that they had to cry. He didn’t want to be a bad dog ever again. Given of course, if he managed to escape this place and find his owner.

He checked the ropes behind his back. Metal arm was good, the only part of his body that didn’t hurt him, mostly because he didn’t feel everything – only pressure, not warmth or cold or pain. His right hand was another story. He could barely feel his right wrist and that wasn’t good. He had to restore blood circulation and he had to do it fast – since he lost his left arm he was obsessed about losing any other part of his body. Just the thought about amputation made his stomach clench uncomfortably and his breathing stuck in his lungs.

There had to be some sharp object nearby which could help him cut the rope.

Eventually he went for a piece of glass nearby that was easy to grab with his limited motor skills. He crouched while trying to get himself free. Cutting the rope with a piece of glass – metal hand was of graet use here – wasn’t the hardest thing right now. His mind was going crazy, screaming that he shouldn’t do it. His handlers decided to tie him here and they didn’t allow him to walk around free, but what else was there to do? With a lot of effort, he managed to push these thoughts away and focus on the here and now.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents – he knew there were at least two of them – hadn’t shown up yet but it was only a matter of time until they come to collect him.  He had to be prepared when that happened, he had to think up a good plan to get rid of them or at least slow them enough to escape.

After two minutes of desperate sawing, the rope was thin enough for him to rip. He began to massage his right wrist at once, although the touch of his metal hand wasn’t a pleasant one. After another minute, he was standing again, looking around the room and trying to think.

He had to get to his real Master.

(He felt guilty for letting the other man, Falcon, touch him. For wanting his gentle touch. He was a  _bad dog._ Disloyal. It didn’t matter that it was the first person that wanted to touch him and not  _harm him_ since his Master finished training him.)

Before he could come up with something smart he heard footsteps. He cursed, feeling the edge of panic rising again and only his military training kept him together. He had to act fast if he wanted to have a chance against his opponents.  His instincts kicked in, allowing him to forget he was a dog and focus on his mission – he was the Winter Soldier after all--he could think like an intelligent assassin if he needed to.

Slowly, without making even the quietest sound, he slinked out of the room and hid in the darkest part of the corridor leading down into the bunker. He was sure Falcon and the other agent – or agents, he still didn’t know the exact number of them and it wasn’t helping him – wouldn’t go there.  More  dead bodies were lying here and after a brief moment, he laid down as well, hoping they wouldn’t notice him in the faint light.

“What did Natasha say?” Sam asked, James could recognize his voice from earlier. “How long will it take her to come pick us up? Not that we can’t stay a bit longer but I think it would be best to take Bucky away from here as fast as possible.”

 _Bucky?_ Who the hell was Bucky? Maybe one of their agents – he thought –maybe he was injured and they wanted to take care of him as fast as possible. The name felt oddly familiar to him, as if he heard it before but he couldn’t remember. Not right now though he couldn’t wonder on it, not when his mind was set on his mission and shut down everything that was unnecessary.

 

“Yeah. She said it will take her thirty minutes and that it might get dangerous here soon. The explosion and smoke brought attention to us. Unwanted, but thanks to the snowstorm the Russians will also have problems coming here,” another voice said, this time he recognized it too, but couldn’t link a face to it. It was the man that killed the handler in front of him, they were arguing but he wasn’t listening, couldn’t listen – he was too afraid then, too busy catching his breath, busy being  _bad._ Again.

“About that explosion. What was that?” Falcon asked. They were getting closer and closer and he found his heart beating faster and faster with each passing second, with each of their nearing footsteps.

“They blew up the archive,” the other said displeased. “The door was sealed so I think whatever explosion caused it, it won’t reach us here.”

They entered the room he’d been held captive in.

He held his breath, waiting in fear at what was coming.

“Where is he!?” Falcon shouted and he reacted faster than he thought. He ran to the thick metal door leading to the room and shut them in as fast as he could. He then reached for a steel rod broken off nearby and blocked the doorway. It was an impromptu solution, evidently not a long time one, but it had to be enough for now.

He heard curses and it was all it took for him to run.

When he was near the exit they’d entered from, the sound of someone breaking down the door reached him and for a second he forgot how to breathe. Then he was running even faster.

There was snowstorm outside. Right.

He was naked. He was always naked and it was so easy to forget that he had to dress up to survive in Russia, especially with that weather. But there was no time for that. He could hear footsteps approaching him. Without thinking much, he tore off a coat of one of the dead bodies lying near the door and pulled it around himself.

It had to be enough for a while. But it was so freezing cold out there and it triggered memories in him. The ones he wanted to keep away for as long as he was able.

Focusing back on his task, he took two guns – freezing cold as well, he was surprised when his skin didn’t stick to them for good – and ran to the forest at the outskirts as if his life depended on it. Well, it did in fact depend on it.  If S.H.I.E.L.D. caught him, he would be killed or tortured and interrogated. He didn’t want that. He wanted to return to his Master, so he ran.

Six meters away, he couldn’t feel his bare feet anymore and he was shaking from cold. He couldn’t see anything either because of the snow and harsh wind in his face but he kept going. There wasn’t anything else for him to do other than escape and run. Even if it was a foolish attempt and even if he would freeze to death here, he at least wouldn’t be in the enemy’s hands.

“Can you see him?!” He heard suddenly and his heart stopped.  _Fuck._ He didn’t have energy to run, the snow was deep reaching almost his knees and he couldn’t feel his legs. His fingers, his face… He began to panic again.

“Cap, to your left!” A voice from above him shouted, but he could barely hear it.

Then, from the white snow emerged his  _target._ He recognized his shield, made of Vibranium, painted blue, white and red. Then the manly figure, blurry with snow, was approaching him pretty fast. He couldn’t move. He wanted to, he wanted to run or scream, but he couldn’t – it was too cold for him to do anything other than standing and waiting for his death.

 

He wanted to die so badly in that one moment and he hoped against hope that he would freeze before _Captain America_ reached him.

 

 _Steve,_ was his last thought, just seconds before strong arms wrapped around him and he passed out.

“Sam! Get over here!” Steve shouted, desperate and frightened. What was Bucky thinking!? Going outside – naked! – was a suicide. A very ugly thought settled in his mind and he had to shake his head to get rid of the choking feeling. He focused on James, on his cold body in his arms and he surprised himself with how quickly he ran to the bunker.

“Jesus,” Sam gasped, when he landed at the entrance and walked up to them. Steve was sitting on the floor, rubbing hands around Bucky’s stomach. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sam said again and then without asking pulled his gloves off and crouched next to them. He began to quickly rub his hands against Bucky’s bare shoulder.

“Sam, why did he do that?” Steve asked, looking at Sam with wide, watery eyes and Sam couldn’t answer that question. It was painfully obvious why Bucky ran away from them, why he was so desperate he walked outside  _naked._ It was a crazy plan of a broken person.

“I’ll go find some clothes for him,” Falcon said after long moment of silent rubbing trying to bring circulation back into Bucky’s cold form. Steve nodded and didn’t say anything so Sam went down the corridor, searching for something, for anything really.

“Bucky?” Steve asked silently, it was barely a whisper. “Bucky, if you can hear me, you are safe here. I’m with you. Everything is going to be okay, I promise you. We’ll take care of you. No one will hurt you and you don’t need to be afraid anymore…”

He was still talking when Sam returned with warm boots, trousers, gloves and coat long enough to cover down to the ankles.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked, unsure and he knelt beside Captain and Bucky. “We should get him dressed. Natasha will be here soon.”

Steve nodded again but didn’t move for another moment. Only when Sam began to put boots on Bucky’s feet he reacted taking the gloves. It was an easy task, an even calming one if Sam had anything to say on the matter, but it ended when they moved to the trousers.

Captain was the first to notice frozen semen on Bucky’s inner thighs and he clenched his hands into fists, his face growing red with anger. It took Sam a while to understand what was happening but when he did he let out another gasp and cursed loudly. Then did it again and again until he felt up to continue his task.

“Cap, focus on the job,” he said harshly, trying to pull trousers on Bucky. Or what was left of Bucky. His words seemed to be like a bucket of cold water and Steve shook his head and resumed helping him. The coat was easy to put on Bucky, but neither of them were sure if Bucky’s chest was purple and raw from cold or from the beating.

The sound of a landing jet was like a salvation for both of them. Sam let Steve carry his unconscious, half-frozen friend to the plane following them closely. The snowstorm was furious now, the wind almost blowing them off the ground but somehow they reached the jet.

Natasha was waiting for them tense and ready for action. What she wasn’t expecting, was the Winter Soldier in such a bad state, a silent Captain America, and Falcon who looked like a ghost of his normal self. Yet she only frowned at them, she was a professional, she knew how to act like it.

“First Aid is in the high locker,” she said and went back to the cockpit. “We’ll leave in 30 seconds. I know good doctor in Kazakhstan, he’ll help you.”

“Thanks Nat,” Steve managed to say before he focused back on Bucky. They needed to warm him and they needed to do it quickly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Natasha asked, but it was question for Sam. They both knew Steve was too distracted to pay attention to them.

“He went outside almost naked,” Sam explained. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the jet, not knowing what else he could do. Cap didn’t seem to need his help right now. He was rubbing Bucky and whispering to him something no one could hear because of the engine’s hum.  

“Hypothermia then,” she said, looking at the unconscious man from her seat. “You should wake him up if you’re able to. He shouldn’t be asleep in state like this.”  _He might not wake up,_ was left unsaid but everyone could hear it. Steve began to shake Bucky’s arm but it didn’t wake him.

“How we could warm him?” Sam asked, hoping that Natasha would have a good solution for them. He knew he had training where some teacher talked about hypothermia but right now he couldn’t remember anything. It was as if all useful information flew from his mind and left him helpless and frustrated.

Natasha was silent for a moment, but when she finally spoke, Falcon wanted to jump he was so grateful.

“There’s thermal foil in the locker above your head Sam. Undress him and cover him up. It would be good if one of you undressed too and warmed him with your body.”

Steve was the first to react. His movements were quick, his hands steady, even when he was on edge. Sam in the meantime reached for the foil. There were three large thermal blankets and foil. He put one on the floor then waited for Cap and Bucky.

Two minutes later, two naked men were lying under the thermal foil and wrapped in the blankets. Bucky didn’t wake up but slowly he got warmer and warmer. Steve was still rubbing his back, trying to help him and to soothe him at the same time.

When the worst was past them, Sam finally sat on the bench and sighed deeply. He put his elbows on his knees and hid his head in his hands. He needed a moment to think, to get rid of all this stress. Natasha looked at him – _and was it worry in her eyes?_ – yet didn’t comment on his state. Steve was too busy with Bucky to notice him, so Sam took his chance. He closed his eyes, relieved that they were all alive and in relatively good state.

He only then realized that Steve was in such amok yet he didn’t even have a serious injury; their Super Soldier was fine except few scratches and bruises. Yet, his mental state – Sam looked briefly at Steve – that was something else entirely.

“Do you know any good psychologist?” He asked Natasha and she smirked under her nose.

“The only one I knew with a level high enough to help you was Sitwell.” She said sarcasm and cruel satisfaction obvious in her voice. She wasn’t even pretending to be subtle about it.

“Shame indeed” Sam snorted.

Now, Sam was sure he saw her smile, a smug one. “Don’t worry, he had life insurance.”

“And who’s going to get that money? His family must be mourning after him.” Sam looked at her curiously, wanting to see her reaction. But Natasha was even more amused and content with her next words.

“I wouldn’t worry that much. His family was quite happy with Gourmet Gold Special with extra tuna.”

Sam looked at her as if she was crazy and barely managed a simple: “What?”

“He only had a cat. He called him Director Purry” she explained and rolled her eyes. Sam couldn’t believe what he heard for a moment and then just shook his head, stunned with this information.

“Maria wanted to give him to shelter but Clint kept arguing. He thinks we should keep him.” She fell silent for a moment, trying to gather enough strength or find good words for what she needed to say. “Look, Sam. Steve told me about… about Bucky’s training. Maybe having a cat would help him? I mean when I ended up badly after a failed mission, after Budapest, Clint brought me a cat. And I found peace in that little ball of fur. “

Sam considered it for a moment, but mostly, he was surprised by Natasha’s confession. He felt very special that she choose to share her memory with him and he smiled slightly toward her, bending his head in a silent  _thank you_ before he nodded with agreement. It sounded like a plan, maybe not a good one, but definitely not a bad one either.

“I guess we can try,” he said and moved to look at Steve and Bucky. The Winter Soldier looked so calm, as if he was just sleeping. Sam thought he wouldn’t ever accuse this innocent looking man of the crimes he committed.

Steve looked at Sam and mouthed silent  _thank you_ toward him. Sam only smiled with sadness and bent his head again in acknowledgement, then gestured Steve to go back to his friend. When Captain was again busy, Falcon felt how tired he was. One more look at Natasha – now talking through the coms with someone – told him that he had a moment for himself. He took this opportunity, reached for Bucky’s coat and covered himself, then lay down on the bench.

He needed a nap.

Yet, it was only an hour before a loud scream pulled him out of his dreamland. To be more precise:  _Bucky’s loud scream._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29/04/14  
> Chapter was beta'd by amazing winterxghost!


	3. Third shot - first attempt - failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First of all I wanted to thank you for amazing comments! I figured I may as well answer some of your questions here :3 
> 
> \- calmndream - yes, they will eventually move to Stark Tower but not yet! And don't worry, comfort part will be here soon!  
> \- Leaquoia - omg! It's amazing vision and a great idea! Perhaps someday I'll write some kind of sidestory to this one so I can explore Bucky's new kinks! (Steve's too, but he won't admit it, I bet!) Also, greetings from Poland! We're neighbours! 
> 
> Also, as you probably noticed I have a wonderful beta! I was really surprised how many beautiful readers wrote to me! I was honestly flattered and at this point I want to thank you all for your support and engagement. You are all my motivation! 
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter and have a good day!

### Chapter 3: Third shot- first attempt - failed.

The night sky was clean and clear finally and Natasha could see all the stars from her pilot seat. It was deceiving how calm the flight seemed to be with their cargo unconscious. Falcon had fallen asleep as well, leaving Natasha without anyone to speak to.

She was far too smart to try talking to Steve. It was obvious not only to her how hard this situation was for Captain America.  For her however? She had worked in the KGB. She had seen many horrible things and she had done even worse, but in all her career in Russia, she had never seen a man turned into an obedient and loyal dog the way James had. 

She had an idea however what the process looked like.

“How much time before we reach your doctor?” Steve asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, muffled by the constant steady hum of the engines.

One look toward him and Natasha changed to automatic pilot before she rose from her seat and walked over to Steve. His skin was an unhealthy pale, dark circles under his eyes – she could swear he was like a ghost of himself. Yet it was his hand, gently stroking Bucky’s hair that somehow moved her. It was a simple gesture and so powerful in that moment that she stared a few seconds too long that Steve couldn’t help but take notice, though he did not speak of it.

She crouched near them, not too far that she couldn’t still whisper to Steve, but not too close in case the Winter Soldier awoke and tried to attack them in his confusion.

“About thirty minutes,” she said and something in her voice told Steve that it wasn’t all. He looked her in the eyes and Natasha let out a deep breath. It was unwise of her to keep that information a secret.

“What is it?” Steve prompted after a few seconds of silence and she was compromised, without a choice other than to tell the truth.

“The doctor I’m taking you to–,” she began and Stave’s face morphed into one of pure worry and stress. There wasn’t any sign of faith in his hollow eyes and it scared her more than anything, even more than the Hulk’s anger. (The Hulk she could escape, but this? This was something else entirely.) “--It’s Banner. He’s in Kazakhstan.”

Steve was still for a good moment and she could see how hard he was thinking about it.

“He doesn’t have medical experience. Not the one we need, Natasha,” he said, looking critically at the top of Bucky’s head, the only part of him that wasn’t covered by the thermal blanket or Steve. “He’s a good man and I know he can control the Hulk better than before but– Do we have any other options?”

“Are you asking me if I knew someone not associated with S.H.I.E.L.D. or HYDRA or any other government that might have medical experience to patch up the one person that blew up our organization only because I ask them nicely?”

“Right,” Steve cleared his throat and then sighed, still looking at his friend.

“Steve, I know it’s bad but we don’t have many choices right now. Bruce will help us, I’m sure. And besides, not that long ago he finished a medical project with Stark. You know, Stark removed the rest of metal pieces from his body and the arc reactor as well. He didn’t trust anyone except Bruce so they both kind of graduated in medicine together through that. Or at least they know enough to fix Stark, so– What I’m saying is, Bucky will be in good hands.” 

Steve shook his head. A small, weary looking smile appeared on his face and he looked at her again.

“You guys never tell me a thing,” he muttered and she smiled back because he was right. Natasha didn’t report to him, it wasn’t her duty and Tony? It would be miracle if Stark ever told any of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents about his current situation. The man has trust issues greater than Mount Everest and even Clint couldn’t compete with him.

“Well, I guess it’s just the beginning, Cap.” Natasha winked and was going to say something more but a low whimper brought her attention to the bundled up Winter Soldier.

Within seconds she had a knife in hand and was prepared to jump into a defensive position should the Winter Soldier wake up fighting. Steve on the other hand, was more alarmed and worried about Bucky than about safety of the rest of his team. Natasha wasn’t surprised and it was reckless of the patriot at best.

“He’s having a nightmare,” Steve said with a hint of motherly distress in his voice.

Bucky was whimpering plaintively, his normal hand twitched a few times while the other one was clenched tightly in fist. For a moment, both Natasha and Steve thought he was murmuring something under his breath, but then they realized they weren’t words they were a growl. Not the growl of a grown dog but more of a puppy, silent and unsure. _Frightened._

“Should we wake him up?” She asked, looking from Steve to Bucky. They had to play it safe if they wanted to avoid fight. Natasha knew from experience that when you wake up assassin from a nightmare it’s an automatic reaction to attack – and before their mind clears enough to process what’s going on it’s more often than not too late to prevent damage.

“We _need_ to wake him up,” Steve corrected, now determined to put an end to his friend’s suffering. Natasha prepared herself for the unexpected and focused on what Steve was doing.

The Captain bent forward a bit and as slowly and gently as he could, put his hand on Bucky’s cheek and began to rub it.

“Bucky,” he said softly, trying to sound harmless and friendly. “Bucky, you need to wake up. It’s only a nightmare.”

It didn’t help, if anything, it made the Winter Soldier tense up even more and Steve shot Natasha helpless grimace. What they were supposed to do? Steve sighed, bit his lower lip and then decided to gently shake Bucky’s shoulder. In response, Bucky whined and curled into himself and after few seconds he started to tremble. Steve was pretty sure it wasn’t from cold.

“Try again,” Natasha said from her spot, weapon still in her hand ready to be used.

Steve nodded and shook Bucky’s arm, stronger this time, more firmly. Then, a few things happened at the same time.

Bucky _screamed_ as if his bones were breaking and opened his eyes wide. Natasha jumped backwards, shocked, as well as the Falcon – who fell of his bench without a clue about what was happening.

“No,” Steve managed to protest before Bucky’s metal arm hit him heavily and he felt his nose break. It didn’t hurt as much as seeing the fear painted on his friend’s face did.

Bucky struggled to get free of thermal blanket, completely lost and terrified. The fact that he was lying next to Captain America – his _target_ – didn’t make it any easier for him. The Falcon seemed to catch up quickly and didn’t wait to act. In no time at all he was on the jet’s floor, hovering over Bucky and pinning his wrists to the ground.

Steve was sure – he could bet his life on it – that Bucky was a lot stronger than Sam and yet, right now it seemed to be otherwise.  Only after a while, Steve fully understood _why._ Bucky wasn’t even trying to fight Sam. He was panicking, looking at Sam as if he was going to hurt him badly, as if this was the worst thing in the whole universe. And maybe – for Bucky – it was.

Falcon realized it too and without hesitation used it.

“Easy boy,” he said as calmly as he could. “Easy. Do you remember how you got here? Nod or shake your head.”

Sam hoped that maybe questions would turn Bucky’s attention from panicking and maybe, maybe he’d calm himself and wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Bucky shook his head hesitantly, his chest still rising unevenly, breaths short and quick.

“I want you to lay still. Can you do that?”

A nod and a look as uncertain as before--frightened.

Sam sighed mentally. He shut down the part of his brain that was responsible for morality and ethics and instead told himself that he had to become Bucky’s new _Master_ only because _someone_ had to, not because he wanted to. After that quick reassurance, he looked firmly at the trembling Winter Soldier below him and eventually, slowly let go of his wrists.

Sam sat on the floor next to Bucky who, to everyone’s surprise, stayed still but wasn’t any less terrified.

“Are you okay, Cap?” It was Natasha that broke the silence between them first. At once Sam looked at Steve – his nose was broken and bleeding, but with his Super Soldier healing skills it wouldn’t be much of a problem. Bucky looked too, and instantly he began to panic again. Steve was still beside him, only in his underwear, and Sam had a nasty thought that he knew why this could trigger fear in the Winter Soldier. He saw sex toys in the lab earlier at the HYDRA base and he was pretty sure Steve noticed them too. Yet neither of them had enough strength to talk about it right now.

“It’s all right,” Sam said to Bucky and then put his hand to his cheek. Steve looked hurt when Bucky leaned to him, but Sam didn’t have time to spare for Cap. “Good boy. Just like that, try to calm yourself. No one is going to hurt you here. You broke Steve’s nose but it was an accident. You didn’t know what you were doing. Am I right?”

“Woof.”

Natasha let out a disbelieving gasp. To hear about Bucky’s condition was one thing, but to see for yourself? She theoretically knew that he responded in barks but yet she had to see it to fully to understand the weight of what had been done to this man.

“Good.” Sam didn’t let this baffle him. “I’m your Master now. I give you orders and you listen to them. Do you understand?”

“Woof.”

“Excellent,” Sam praised, relief washed over him when Bucky visibly relaxed under his touch. Perhaps it was easier to him now when he knew who to obey. “I’m going to set rules for you. Firstly, you will listen to me no matter what. If I say you have to be still you will be still, if I order you to calm down, you will do that.”

Steve and Natasha observed in silence, neither of them dared to stop Sam from what he was doing. Natasha thought deep down inside herself that Falcon was right, that Bucky needed an anchor, something he could hold to when everything around him became too much to bear. A quick glance at Steve told her that he didn’t share her opinion – not at all, not in this way of it, not by treating Bucky as a nothing more than a dog. She would probably feel the same if it was Clint instead of Bucky, and so she couldn’t fault Steve too much on his opinion of the matter.

“Secondly, if I’m not around, you will listen to Natasha and Steve.” At that, Bucky’s breath hitched and he looked warily at Steve, ignoring Natasha. Sam took his chin in his hand and immediately those big blue eyes were focused on him again. “Steve is no longer your target. You won’t hurt him or Natasha under any circumstance. Do you understand?”

“Woof.”

 Sam smiled again, his hand softened against Bucky’s skin and he began to gently rub his cheek. It seemed to put Bucky at ease or at least he wasn’t as tense as before. He wasn’t on edge and it was an important accomplishment, a step in the right direction at least.

“Steve, I think you should dress yourself,” Sam prompted, sensing that the only thing that kept Bucky from relaxing and maybe even falling asleep again, was Steve’s presence next to him. For some reason – okay, not some reason, an obvious one – Bucky didn’t trust him. Or more likely, the _Winter Soldier_ didn’t and Steve couldn’t hide how deeply that wounded him, Winter Soldier or not, it was still Bucky in there. Without much enthusiasm Captain untangled himself from the blanket – half of his face still covered in blood, but he was no longer bleeding openly. Natasha was there for him in an instant holding a hanky against his face and trying to assess the damage.

Without Steve near him, Bucky relaxed more, yet Sam could tell he was still ready to move into action in any second.  His eyes were half-closed but they followed Steve’s movements nevertheless and metal fingers were twitching under the blanket.

“We’re flying to meet the doctor that will help you recover from your injuries. When he comes here I want you to be good-tempered and to not make any abrupt moves.” Sam said and when Bucky nodded, he smiled again. It was incredible how easy Bucky accepted all that Sam had told him, how he didn’t question him. But it wasn’t honest trust, everyone was aware of that, it was training, it was what HYDRA did to him. Falcon was really, really grateful that he didn’t have time to think about it, to rethink Bucky’s actions and interpret them, analyze them, because if he had, it would probably break his heart. So instead he smiled contentedly when Bucky pressed his cheek to his hand and closed his eyes when Sam nodded his acquiescence.

“Good boy, take a nap. I’ll be here with you,” Sam muttered and reached for the thermal blanket to cover Bucky’s bare skin. There was still great chance that he’d suffer from hypothermia but that wasn’t exactly their first problem.

Sam moved then to a more comfortable position and Bucky looked at him with _pleading_ eyes when they lost their skin contact. Falcon could hardly bear it. With an apologetic half-smile he put his hand on Bucky’s head again and began to play with the shaggy long brown strands. They were a bit moist from the melted snow and ice, but at the same time soft and pleasant to the touch. Bucky let out the faintest sigh of contentment and closed his eyes.

After such an eventful day Falcon was surprised that Bucky had even woken up. He was beaten almost to death by HYDRA’s agents and it apparently wasn’t the first time. The abuse must have happened regularly and Sam suspected that his training wasn’t much nicer. He knew that changing situations as dramatically as they did was stressful and it would take time for Bucky to settle down. Yet, he was now as determined as much as the Captain was to make things better for this man. He might be an assassin, the infamous Winter Soldier who killed a lot of people – but he wasn’t the one to blame. He was the one who paid the terrible price and Sam wasn’t even sure if anyone could help him return to being human.

Ten minutes later, Natasha was back in her pilot seat and Steve was sitting on the bench opposite to Falcon and Bucky. Sam was still playing with the other’s hair knowing that it calmed him, even if the Winter Soldier was sleeping again. When Sam was sure that his whisper won’t wake him up, he asked Steve,

“What’s the plan?”

Steve for a moment was taken aback, his mind having been so drawn into caring for Bucky, but then he sighed silently and briefly looked at Natasha. Exactly what was their plan? Did they even have one?

“We’ll meet with Doctor Banner and bring him here, then we’ll fly somewhere else,” he said and winced because even to his ears that was a really poor plan and he was the guy known for running into guarded concentration camps without thinking twice.

Sam wanted to point out how many things could go wrong in their plan – starting with Hulk smashing things over their heads – but he refrained from it as best he could. Steve’s morale was lower than ever and Natasha had been on edge from the beginning. Her organization was compromised along with all her covers – she was exposed and vulnerable and even more dangerous. Sam was the one that kept his shit together and no matter if he wanted to or not – he had to make a decision for all of them. It wasn’t an easy task, he was always more of a ‘team work’ kind of guy, definitely not the leader – that was Captain America’s job, but right now said Captain America had a broken nose and wasn’t in good mental shape – but Sam had to at least try.

“Okay,” he muttered under his breath and then said it again, “Okay,” more firmly this time. “Good to know that the Hulk’s going to join us. Has anyone informed him yet?”

“No.” It was Natasha who answered. “He doesn’t know we’re coming. But it doesn’t matter; he’ll go with us regardless.”

Sam frowned at that but decided let that subject die. If Natasha was sure Bruce Banner would help them he had to put faith in that. Trust wasn’t as big issue for him as for the rest of super-hero team.

“Okay. Awesome. And then what? Where are we going to fly? How much fuel we have? Is there any safe place for us to go?” Sam asked, looking from Steve to Natasha and back.

“We can’t stay in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s hideouts,” It was Steve this time, his voice tired and serious. “They won’t let us keep Bucky and most likely they’ll put him in cell or give him to the government.  Also, we don’t know which bases are already taken by HYDRA.”

“So that leaves what? Because we can’t hide in my house forever. I’m pretty sure my neighbors will notice a huge jet in my backyard.” Sam pointed out with a hint of sarcasm he hoped would lighten the mood even if only a bit.

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted and for the first time since they went looking for Bucky, Sam saw him giving up. “I really don’t know. I thought that maybe Fury would help us but with this one we’re on our own. Bucky needs a safe place. He shouldn’t be moving from one warehouse to  another. It won’t improve his condition.”

“We should ask Tony,” Natasha interrupted. “And I’m sure if we add Bruce to the bargain, he’ll let us stay for a while. Maybe he could check this metal arm for any tracing devices. Anyways, we’re landing. Prepare yourself, boys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 29/04/14  
> Chapter was beta'd by amazing winterxghost!


	4. Third shot - second attempt - not much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for your comments!  
> Next chapter may not be so soon because of my finals. (Which I'm currently trying to pass without heartattack or depression.) But who knows? Sometimes I feel like I want to sit and write but I don't have time for that, other times I have time but nothing comes to me x.x 
> 
> Anyway! If you have some **prompts** for me (not only for Stucky) you can sent me them on my tumblr (followthebifrost). I'm considering writting a kinky series. So yeah. Go wild on me!

The first thing he noticed when his mind woke up, was that they weren’t flying anymore. A lump of cold ice settled in his stomach and he froze in his spot, unable to move even if he wanted to, bound with his fear. He didn’t open his eyes;  a small part of him knew that his new master told him to look, but the other part – the bigger one – was still loyal to his old Master.  _The rightful one._

At once, when he remembered everything, he almost choked on his breath. How could he betray his Master like that? He was _bad,_ so bad. He saw in his mind faces of all his handlers, killed in the bunker by Captain America. By a target he was unable to put down. It was all because he was bad dog, because he disobeyed – and the worst part of it was that he didn’t know _why_ he disobeyed, why he dropped his mission. And yet, instead of fighting his way out, instead of killing S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents and returning to his Master, he was perfectly compliant to their will. All it took was a few gentle touches and new set of rules.

And a name. Bucky. 

These words directed at him, triggered something foggy and distant in his memory. He couldn’t say what it was, not exactly, but for the first time it wasn’t something associated with pain or death. It was refreshing and yet it made him more anxious.

 Maybe it was just a pet name, perfect for him.  He was called Winter Soldier, but only when he earned it. With that name came all the privileges – he could sleep on the mattress and sometimes, when a mission went pretty well he was given a blanket and something sweet to eat. His handlers would treat him nicely, like a good dog should be treated and he would have permission to train whenever he wanted or whatever he wanted. Right now, he didn’t know what came along with _Bucky_ and more importantly what he had to do to earn it.

“I know you woke up a while ago,” said his new master and a cold shiver ran through his spine. He trembled at the sensation but other than that, he didn’t dare move or even breathe more deeply. He was waiting for his master to hit him for trying to delude him.  But the pain never came, instead there were fingers, gently playing with his hair.

After a moment, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he opened his eyes and looked at his new master. He seemed to be calm and content with what he was doing and he was smiling. Not like his old Master did, with malice and cruelty, but with honest hope and reassurance. It was something entirely new for him, so he stared for a few long seconds, until he realized what he was doing and quickly averted his eyes.

“It’s okay, Bucky,” his master said, but there was some uncertainty in his voice. He didn’t have to wait long for explanation. “It’s your name…James Buchanan Barnes but everyone used to call you Bucky.”

He looked at his master with confusion, trying to understand his words. It didn’t make any sense to him. He had never been called by that name, not until now. His master frowned at his expression – he must have disappointed him somehow – and it took all his strength to not panic again. Yet he held his breath and tensed his muscles, ready for whatever was coming.

“Do you remember your old life?”

Well, he didn’t expect a harmless question, so he looked at his master again, timidly. Was it some sort of a game? If he gave the wrong answer would he be punished? But he couldn’t not answer his master.

“Woof-woof,” he managed to say and instantly afterwards, he closed his eyes.

“I’ll take it’s a ‘no’ then.”

His Master’s hand moved from his hair to his cheek and began to rub it gently. He was so surprised by the gesture he couldn’t help but look at the man again. His master didn’t seem to be angry; it was more like he accepted his answer.

“Either way, you’re Bucky from now on. We’ll call you by that name. Do you understand?”

“Woof,” he barked but it came out as confused as he was at the moment. Who would give him a name and didn’t want anything in return? But maybe he just had to wait for the other shoe to drop?

“Natasha and Steve will be here in fifteen minutes if everything went well. Remember the doctor I told you about? He’s going to come here too,” master said and his hand disappeared. Bucky’s breath hitched at the loss of the gentle touch but he didn’t dare to ask for more. He was getting way too greedy for his own good. He nodded shortly when he noticed that his master was waiting for response. It was hard to follow his words and expectation and process all the other information at the same time.

“Remember what I told you before? That you have to behave?” He asked and Bucky nodded again, not sure if his bark would sound convincing enough for his master. He could recall every word, but the real question was: will he be able to obey? His instincts were hard to overcome when his old handlers told him to not hit back when they hit him. When he was good, when he was called Winter Soldier and people were respecting him, no one dared to hurt him. But that was in the past now. He failed his mission; he didn’t deserve to have a name that would bring him safety. His Winter Soldier title wasn’t protecting him anymore and he didn’t know if ‘Bucky’ would either.

“Woof,” he barked quietly, after a while. This new master wasn’t that bad, but Bucky knew he shouldn’t judge by the first impression. Even if his new master was gentle now, there was nothing that would stop him from turning that gentleness into cruelty. His old Master though, the one he should be loyal to, that man he knew enough to know what was waiting for him. And he didn’t want to get punished. He didn’t want to get hurt again, to be yelled at and abused. He knew he deserved it, he disappointed his Master and he was _bad dog_ but he didn’t want that. And now, his new master was gentle and patient with him, promising that no one would hurt him.

Maybe he would be safe here if only he manage to please his new master?

It was dangerous thought. If his old Master ever heard about it he would no doubt kill him.

With his mind torn between two masters, he almost didn’t notice that the jet was empty now, except for the two of them. It was alarming that his instincts didn’t work like they should. When Bucky gave it a second thought, he noticed how hard it was for him to focus on his surroundings. There was something wrong with him – he was aware of it now. He shot a quick glare at his master, unsure if what was happening to him was his wish or something else entirely.  His hand and legs were tingling and he was _cold._

“Easy,” his master said, and Bucky realized he was breathing faster than he was a moment ago. “Everything is all right. I want you to stay under the blanket. There’s a chance that you’re suffering hypothermia. Natasha said that you may be confused and anxious and that it is normal for people in your state. Just try to stay calm.”

Well, that at least was explaining why his senses were muffled. Bucky nodded shortly, then became still under the thermal blanket. He didn’t exactly know why, but he knew that he shouldn’t move too much if there was a chance of hypothermia. It wouldn’t be good if cold blood from his limbs got to his heart. Suddenly, he felt panic rising in his chest and all logic was gone. His _limbs!_ He let out a distressed whine and moved abruptly to see his normal hand and when everything seemed to be just fine, he began to scramble under the blanket to check his legs too.

His master reacted before he had a chance to take a good look and he almost –– _almost_ fought back, because he _had to_ look.  Had to make sure no one would take away another part of him. He hated his metal arm, hated the pain it caused on rainy days or when the nerves disconnected accidentally. The man was on the floor next to him, holding both his wrists in his hands.

“Shh, hey, hey,” his master muttered and if Bucky wasn’t so afraid right now, he would notice worry in his voice. “Shh, Bucky. Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky was shivering and for a brief moment he wanted to push his new master away. But he couldn’t do that. The man promised him safety, but Bucky wasn’t dumb, he knew there was price for that. In this world there was nothing for free and the three rules that were already set? He knew there will be more of them to come and that he has to follow them all. So instead of resisting, he tried once more to reach to his legs without touching his master.

“Come on, talk to me,” master said, nervously and that wasn’t good, Bucky knew that wasn’t good.

“M-my legs,” he managed to say, before he could think about it. The words just escaped his lips and for a second, he looked at his new master with pure terror. The man wanted nods or shakes and didn’t object to his barks. Theoretically, he wanted him to talk, he said that, but it had been a long time since he did that. And when he did it out of turn or without prompt, he was punished.

Yet, his new master wasn’t angry at him. Moreover, he seemed to understand what Bucky wanted, because he said something reassuring that he didn’t catch and then moved the thermal blanket.

His legs were good too. He could move them and they weren’t blue. Of course, Bucky could see all the bruises, cuts and grazes, but it wasn’t something unusual for him. Relief washed over him, taking the worst of his fears away and in return leaving him trembling and on the edge of crying.

“Fuck it,” his master whispered, barely audible and then Bucky felt two strong arms around him, pressing him against the man’s chest.

“It’s okay, Bucky. It’s all okay, I’ve got you. I’m here and you’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. You can rest now, relax, let it all go,” master muttered to the top of his head and Bucky was tense only at the beginning. After a few seconds he adjusted, although still trembling, he leaned forward, seeking for more of his master’s comforting touch. In response, arms tightened around him and then one hand began to rub his back.

Bucky had had to fight not to break down right here and now and to not start crying. It was hard and he had to take deep uneven breaths. When it was almost a lost battle he reached around and embraced his master with his own hands. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to even do that, but at this point he didn’t have enough energy to be afraid of consequences. But his master wasn’t upset with him and instead he was still murmuring soft sweet words to him.

“You’re good, you are good. Listen to me Bucky, you are excellent and I’m proud of you. You are so brave for me and so good. Just let it go. I’ll be here for you.”

And at that, Bucky cried. Tears fell down his cheeks and he began to tremble even more than before. His hands clenched on his master’s jacket and without thinking he pressed his nose to the crook of the other’s neck.

“That’s right, don’t hold yourself back. Show me everything.” He heard his master’s voice and sobbed, for the first time _letting it go._ All of the stress and fears he experienced today and also his worries for the future. He let himself forget, even if for a moment, that he was in enemy’s hands, without his Master and that he would be punished for everything he did here. He let himself forget for once that he was a bad dog and instead he lost himself in the soft and kind gestures he craved for so long without fully realizing he did.

His new master was here for him and small part of Bucky began to believe his words were true, began to hope that it would be better now.

He didn’t know how much time he spent cuddling with his master, but it wasn’t long enough for him when Steve and Natasha showed up, along with the other guy. The doctor.

Bucky wasn’t crying anymore when they came, he was pliant in his master’s arms and he didn’t have energy to even look at them. He could hear them of course--their footsteps and hushed voices, their breaths. He pressed his head against his master even more when they entered the jet, trying to make himself smaller, to shrink and hide behind the man that swore to protect him. His metal hand tightened its grip on his master’s jacket.

“What happened?” It was Natasha who asked, more curious than worried.

“Was it another nightmare?” This time it was Steve – not a target anymore, he had to remember that – and he sounded like he wanted to hug Bucky himself. 

“Everything is all right.” His master lied and Bucky let out a shallow breath. He was completely unprepared for the others’ presence. It was hard for him to focus, his head started to ache and he was tired, so, so tired. He wanted to fall asleep again, with his master, with the promise of safety still fresh in his mind.

“It’s okay, really, Steve. I have everything under control.” His master wasn’t paying much attention to him right now and Bucky let himself drift off. He closed his eyes and wasn’t even trying to listen to the conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Doctor Banner,” Sam said after a while. He was still rubbing Winter Soldier’s back and he was aware how weird it was for the rest of the team –– to see him hugging with Bucky. But damn, this guy needed it and Sam wasn’t going to refuse him. Especially when he was his ‘master’ from now on.  “I would like to shake hands with you, but maybe at other occasion?”

“Nice to meet you too. Natasha and Steve told me about… Bucky. And why you need my help.” Bruce was standing near the exit on the ramp, ready to run away at any moment. And although his pose seemed to be relaxed and calm Sam could tell he was nervous. It wasn’t any of the gestures that betrayed him, but the look in his eyes. Sam saw it and knew it – it was look of a man at the battlefield. It didn’t matter if the war is physical or mental, between soldiers or between humans and monsters.

“Yeah,” Sam said softly, looking at Bucky’s head. It was obvious that Winter Soldier was hiding in his arms and Falcon wasn’t going to push him away. Not even a chance. Instead he looked at both Natasha and Steve, then back at Bruce. “Let’s just give him a moment, all right?”

There were three short nods and then Natasha went to the pilot seat. Steve took care of Bruce’s equipment, and Bruce himself still stood at the entrance, unsure. Sam thought it wouldn’t hurt if Doctor Banner came closer, maybe to try to get Bucky used to his presence and touch, so he gestured at the man.

“Hey, Bucky,” he muttered into James’ ear. “Doctor Banner is here, he’ll sit with us, okay? He won’t hurt you; he just wants to take care of your injuries. I promise I’ll be here with you.”

Bucky let out soft whimper in response and then shifted in his arms, trying to get away from the Doctor. The movement ended sharply and James tensed, then after a while he returned to his earlier place. Sam smiled bitterly, remembering his earlier order. But it was important, to ensure Bucky’s good-temper during a medical check-up. They really didn’t need the Hulk here and it was pretty clear that Bruce wasn’t feeling relaxed at the moment.

“Hey there,” Bruce said. His movements were slow as if he was approaching a wild animal. In some twisted way, Sam thought it was true. The Winter Soldier was their wild animal, a timid one but ready to strike in a mere seconds. “I’m Bruce. You don’t need to look at me or anything, really. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

Bucky didn’t seemed to be persuaded enough. Steve sensed it too, because he looked at them from the bench he was sitting on. When Sam’s eyes meet with Cap’s, he could see how badly Steve was hurt and jealous. But above these feelings, Sam saw much greater concern. He mouthed a silent _‘we’re good’_ and then turned to face Doctor Banner.

“Can you tell us anything?” Sam asked, hoping that he wouldn’t have to move Bucky too much. It was a miracle in itself that the Winter Soldier was so calm in his arms. It was almost like a bird willingly sitting on his hand –– Sam didn’t want it to end, but couldn’t do anything to make it last. He felt like even the smallest move would startle Bucky and he would be gone, panicking and fighting again.

Bruce sat on the jet’s floor, near them, but with enough space between to back out quickly. For a moment he was looking closely at Bucky, at his bruised back and right arm, the one he could see from his spot. Then he moved a bit to get a better look at other parts of the Winter Soldier. During the process, Bucky was tense in Sam’s grip, knowing that he was being examined, even if only from distance.

“Well,” Banner cleared his throat and then looked at Sam. “His condition isn’t critical, but he does need medical attention. Apart from presumed light hypothermia I’m worried about the bruises. There are a lot of them and it could be bad for his organs.”

Bruce gestured towards Bucky’s kidneys. The skin there was almost dark-violet and Sam was aware of how dangerous it was.  Moreover the Winter Soldier had bruises all over his face, including his temples.

“Also I need to check the connection between his flesh and metal. If he was outside naked he might have some serious frostbite.” At the mention of his metal arm, Bucky flinched, for a brief second he wanted to pull away and defend himself, but Sam’s hands were around him. He didn’t want to lose that touch. It was comforting in a way he hadn’t experienced for too long. So instead he whimpered against Sam’s neck and shook his head.

“Shh, Bucky,” Falcon muttered quickly and began to rub the other’s back. “Be good for me. Bruce has to examine you.”

“Can we do it in the air?” Natasha said out of the blue, her voice distressed. “If we won’t hurry up, we’ll have company.”

Steve was back on his feet, walking to the second pilot seat. He wasn’t necessary there, but Sam thought that maybe looking at Bucky was too much for him to bear right now. To be honest, he himself had problems with it. He couldn’t even imagine how hard a time Steve was having.

“Please keep the jet steady, Natasha,” Bruce asked in his polite manner and then turned again toward his patient. “Steve told me that he was sexually abused. I’ll have to check that too.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and he shook his head again. He wanted to tell his master that he didn’t want any medical and help that he was alright. That he will be fine so no one has to spread his legs again and touch him _there._ But no one was asking him and barked answers weren’t an option. They wouldn’t understand. Yet, his master didn’t tell him if he could talk when the others were here. Maybe that was how it worked. Maybe he could speak only when he was alone with his master. It made sense, somehow.

He bit his lower lip, trying to stop his body from shaking. He had to stay still, to be good, as his master commanded.

“Lay on the blanket,” his master said and Bucky held his breath. The warm hands were gone and automatically, he obeyed. He laid flat on his back, eyes focused on the ceiling, hands clenched. He tried to breathe slowly and evenly but from time to time air flew out of his lungs in rapid gusts, leaving him more anxious.  


“I’m here with you, Bucky,” his master said reassuringly and began to stroke his hair. Bucky closed his eyes and forced himself to relax as much as it was possible. He was going to be good, no matter the cost. If the Doctor wanted to fuck him, if his master wanted to watch, then Bucky would obey as he always does.  
The hum of the engines muffled Bucky’s scared whine when Bruce touched his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 07/05/2014  
> Beta'd by wonderful winterxghost 
> 
> (Also, I have birthday today! Yay for me!)


End file.
